


Fealty

by anthean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bisexual Character, Hopeful Ending, Loyalty, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Trope Subversion/Inversion, casual medical ethics violations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25329544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean
Summary: “Right,” the medic said. “And have you ever gotten it translated? I assume itiswriting.”His tone suggested that it might not be, might be some bizarre freak accident that had ended up on Eli’s skin instead of a nice neat name written in legible Aurebesh characters. Like normal people had, instead of the tangles and spirals of Eli’s mark.--Five conversations about Eli Vanto's soulmark.
Relationships: Eli Vanto/OFC, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 21
Kudos: 186





	Fealty

**Author's Note:**

> There are some violations of medical confidentiality in this fic, in case that's an issue for anyone.
> 
> endless thanks to tristesses for beta reading!

“That your soulmark, kid?” the academy medic asked. He wrinkled his nose and pulled a stylus from behind his ear, peering at the dark swirl of lines along Eli’s ribs.

Eli felt his skin prickle in response and told himself it was just the cold air in the exam room, where he was seated, shirt off, on a metal table. _It’s a tattoo,_ he didn’t say, _it was a bet, it’s just a weird birthmark, oh, that? Funny story about a bantha and a kilo of high-grade spice._ Even ordinary people could usually tell the difference between a soulmark and an ordinary tattoo, and an Imperial medic would see right through any story he tried.

And he didn’t exactly want “lied about his soulmark” on his record before he’d even been admitted to Myomar Academy.

“Yes, sir,” he said, trying to sound like the question didn’t bother him. His face was growing hot under the medic’s curious stare.

The medic poked the soulmark with the stylus, as though expecting it to move. 

“Well, it’ll have to be registered,” he said after a dubious pause. “Come over here, the light is better.”

He directed Eli to stand against the wall, where the light was, as far as Eli could tell, exactly the same as it was where he’d been sitting on the exam table. 

“Lift your arm,” he instructed, prodding Eli into position with the stylus.

Eli complied, blush burning on his cheeks as the medic took still-holo images of the soulmark from every angle. Did the medic really need to shove the imager so close? Wasn’t one holo enough? Or was he getting a few to show his friends?

“Okay, that should do it,” the medic said, finally straightening up. He balanced the stylus carefully behind his ear again and picked up a datapad. “Couple questions. When did it appear?”

“A few months ago. Can I put my shirt back on?”

The medic ignored him. 

“Anything happen a few months ago, just before or after the mark appeared? Do anything noteworthy, make any big decisions?”

“I-” Eli hesitated a fraction too long, and the medic looked up at him. “I decided to join the Imperial Navy. Not go into the family business.”

The medic’s gaze sharpened and he scribbled a note on his datapad. “Hm. Was this before or after the mark appeared? Think carefully.”

“Before,” Eli said. It was probably true. He’d only noticed the mark after the dinner when he’d announced his decision to his parents. He had been changing for bed, excited to have made his decision and a little drunk on celebratory champagne. The sudden appearance of the dark lines twisting across his ribs had been like a gout of cold water.

He’d known the decision to join the Navy was important. He hadn’t known it would lead him to his soulmate.

“But you had already decided?” the medic pressed.

Eli felt a flare of anger and tamped it down: he couldn’t afford to lose his temper. Did the medic think he’d joined the navy only to look for his soulmate? Some people did, but he’d enlisted to _work,_ to climb the ladder and refine the skills he’d already been developing at his parents’ business. He’d already decided when the soulmark appeared, and its appearance hadn’t changed his decision.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. The medic might ask the questions, but Eli wasn’t going to give him any more than he needed in his answers.

“Right,” the medic said. “And have you ever gotten it translated? I assume it _is_ writing.” 

His tone suggested that it might not be, might be some bizarre freak accident that had ended up on Eli’s skin instead of a nice neat name written in legible Aurebesh characters. Like normal people had, instead of the tangles and spirals of Eli’s mark.

“I’ve asked around, but so far no one’s been able to recognize the orthography,” Eli said. Gods, the blush was back. _There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,_ he told himself firmly. There were millions of writing systems in the Galaxy. “So, no. I don’t know what it says.” 

The medic’s eyebrows rose. 

“So it might be alien?” he asked.

Eli’s mouth was opening to snap a response before he could help it; he just barely managed to close his lips over the angry words before they escaped. He pushed past the medic to return to the exam table instead, busying himself with putting his shirt back on when he got there.

“I don’t know what it says,” he repeated once he was clothed again.

“All right, all right,” the medic said, unruffled. “It’s my job to ask the questions. I see a lot of soulmarks.”

“Yeah,” Eli said. “I guess you would.”

The medic made a few notes on his datapad, then fixed Eli with a thin smile. 

“You’re cleared for admission,” he said. “Congratulations, Cadet. I’ll get this filed straight away, and you should be notified of your formal admission once that’s gone through.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eli said, a bubble of happiness rising within him. The medical exam was the last step, and he hadn’t been worried, exactly--but it was nice to have it behind him, to be finally on his way.

“One thing,” the medic said. “About your soulmark. I wouldn’t let it get around that it’s, ah…”

“That it’s what?” Eli asked.

“Well, it’s alien, isn’t it?” the medic replied. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong, exactly, with having an alien soulmate.” The set of his mouth made it pretty clear that there _was_ something wrong with it, and Eli felt his stomach drop. “But it’s the kind of thing that some people might wonder about, if you understand me.”

Might call Eli’s loyalties into question, was what he meant.

“I understand you,” Eli said, keeping his voice as inflectionless as possible. Nevertheless, his hands felt weak, and he shivered.

“Just some friendly advice,” the medic said. He appeared to notice none of Eli’s sudden coldness.

Friendly. Right.

* * *

Something whispered along his side, teasing him out of a light doze. He twitched, trying to retrieve the lost feeling of easy rest, and the sensation became firmer, more deliberate. A faint sound resolved itself into a voice, laughing softly, and he recognized the touch at his side as a hand.

A hand, touching bare skin. Touching his soulmark.

He jerked awake and away, legs flailing in the blankets and ankle knocking painfully on the wall behind him. He swore profusely and scrabbled to a sitting position, tugging his shirt back down over the soulmark.

“Wow,” Jaxa said.

She was seated on the edge of the bed, her hand still raised. As he watched, she reached up and straightened her ponytail, shaking out her shoulders and shooting him an amused glance. She had put her underwear and shirt back on, and the hem of the shirt brushed the tops of her thighs.

They’d been going out for a few months, sleeping together for maybe three weeks. Jaxa was from Lothal, an administrator’s daughter who thought his accent was cute. Her black hair was the softest thing he’d ever felt--and she could take down men twice her size in the _Blood Crow_ ’s combat dojos.

“Sorry,” Eli said, trying to gather his thoughts and reconstruct what had happened.

“That’s your soulmark, isn’t it?” Jaxa asked, reaching for his shirt again. He twitched away without meaning to and she withdrew, a flash of hurt in her dark eyes.

“I was just curious,” she said when he didn’t answer. “I mean, you’ve seen my soulmark, you know we’re not soulmates. You know I don’t care what your soulmark says.” Her hand, maybe unconsciously, moved to cover her right knee, and the look of hurt deepened. “It’d just be nice if we could fuck with your shirt off, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” Eli said, trying to shake off the feeling that she should be apologizing, not him. Soulmarks were...private, that was all. Or at least his was.

It wasn’t that weird. He’d had a friend at Myomar who’d slept her way through half the dorm without ever removing her left sock.

“Look, it’s fine, you can see it.”

He lifted the hem of his shirt, then thought _what the hell_ and took it completely off.

Jaxa scooted closer on the bed and his hands twisted together of their own accord. He firmly untwisted them, then realized he didn’t know where to put them and attempted a casual lean on the mattress.

“Huh,” Jaxa said.

She touched the soulmark again, running her fingers along its loops and curls. Eli wanted to draw back and made himself stay still.

“What language is this?” Jaxa asked.

“I’m not sure,” Eli replied.

“Ooh, mysterious,” Jaxa said. She shot a smile up at him and he made his mouth smile back.

“Probably not,” he said, trying for a light tone. He had begun to angle himself away from her, and he shifted so that they were facing again. “Probably I’ll find out one day that it’s really common and everyone knows about it but me.” That was extremely unlikely, but joking kept the reality at a distance.

“No, no, I like it,” Jaxa said. Her hands were straying from the soulmark now, brushing down his torso and around his back. “Mysterious is sexy.”

She leaned in to kiss his neck and he turned his head away.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just have these reports for Thrawn I need to finish by tomorrow.”

Jaxa pulled back. “Seriously? You’re off-shift.”

“I know, I know,” Eli said, pulling an annoyed face that he didn’t really feel. “You know how it is, though, if you stop working everything piles up, and then…”

The hurt look had returned to Jaxa’s eyes, and Eli felt a rush of guilt at the white lie. He kissed her cheek, taking a moment to smell her hair. “I’m sorry. Buy you a drink in the starboard tapcafe after shift tomorrow?”

Jaxa still looked upset. “You’re buying at least two,” she said, and got up to get dressed.

He ended up buying three, but they went out less and less often after that, until one off-shift a few weeks later Jaxa stopped him in a corridor and told him that she wanted to see other people.

It wasn’t a surprise, or, if Eli was honest with himself, much of a disappointment. Besides, by that point he had a smuggler named Cygni and an impending court martial to worry about, and probably wouldn’t have had time for a relationship anyway.

He carefully didn’t think about Jaxa eying his soulmark and pronouncing it sexy, or about her fingers lifting up his shirt while he slept.

* * *

The night was calm and quiet. Eli could hear the faint rustle of the wind in the grain fields outside, and the fainter sounds of Thrawn’s occasional small movements beside him. They sat together against the sloping wall of the Afe clan meeting house, the structure’s conical peak rising dark and empty above their heads. The door of the house was open so they could see out, but they sat far back where no accidental light would fall on them and give away their position. For now, the only light was the dim pale glow of the moon and stars outside--and the dimmer red gleam of Thrawn’s half-open eyes. Everything else was dark.

Maybe the darkness was why he asked.

“Can I show you something, sir?”

Thrawn turned his head and his eyes glinted. 

“Is it relevant to the task at hand, Ensign?” he asked, voice low.

Eli felt himself blush, invisible in the dark-- then remembered that Thrawn could see the heat signature of his face and blushed harder. No invisibility here. 

“No, sir,” he said. “Sorry. I wasn’t focused.”

Thrawn was silent. Eli straightened up, tried to stretch out his stiffening back. Was Thrawn just as uncomfortable? If he was, Eli couldn’t see any sign of it.

There was a long silence, broken only by the soft wind outside and the occasional call of some far-away night animal.

Then Thrawn exhaled faintly and shook out his shoulders with a small, quick, motion. 

“What is it, Ensign?” he asked.

“This,” Eli said. He pulled up the still-holo image file on his datapad, dimming the brightness to save their night vision, and passed it to Thrawn. “I was wondering if you recognized the writing system.”

He pushed down a wave of nervousness as Thrawn studied the datapad. He’d filtered the image so that it wasn’t obviously a soulmark, just a black swirl of lines on a plain background: there was no reason to think that Thrawn would recognize what it was.

The datapad cast bluish light up onto Thrawn’s face, throwing his cheekbones and forehead ridges into sharp relief. Eli felt his breath catch in his chest and hold, as he waited for...what?

Then Thrawn passed the datapad back with a small shake of his head.

Eli’s shoulders slumped. 

“No luck, huh.”

It wasn’t like he had been hoping, exactly. There was a part of him that shivered into life whenever Thrawn pulled him into some ridiculous scheme, when he stood at Thrawn’s side against some opponent, and that little corner of his mind had thought, _maybe._

It was absurd. The name wasn’t even Thrawn’s. 

Thrawn inclined his head. “You have not identified the orthography?”

“Well, I haven’t asked a lot of people,” Eli said. He switched the datapad off, trying to hold back the tide of disappointment. A place at Thrawn’s side was just as good as a soulmate, and he wouldn’t trade it, but...it still hurt. “Just you, actually.”

Thrawn made a small humming noise in the back of his throat. “Where did you see this?” he finally asked. 

_He knows_ , Eli thought, then tamped it down. Thrawn couldn’t know. Even if he suspected, there was no reason to think that Thrawn would feel the same revulsion at the alien mark that Eli had encountered before. He probably wouldn’t even think the mark was unusual.

The soulmark seemed to burn under Eli’s clothes. His hand drifted up to cover it and Thrawn’s head tilted as he followed the movement.

He’d given himself away; trying to change the subject now would just make Thrawn suspicious. He pulled up the unaltered data file and angled the datapad in Thrawn’s direction. “It’s my soulmark,” he said.

Thrawn studied the file, an expression of faint curiosity on his face. Eli was abruptly aware that Thrawn was looking at his naked ribs--never mind that it was just a still-holo; Eli felt like his uniform had gone transparent. He closed the file and pulled the datapad back, and immediately felt relief wash through him.

The feeling was short-lived: Thrawn lifted his eyes to Eli’s face and Eli blushed hard. But Thrawn said nothing, just gazed at Eli steadily, and finally Eli’s heart slowed and the blush receded. He turned off the datapad and let darkness fall between them.

“I see,” Thrawn said quietly. And he did see, Eli was sure. Thrawn might be hopeless at Empire culture and politics...but Eli was certain that he didn’t need anything explained here.

“Do Chiss have soulmarks?” Eli asked, then winced and bit his lip. Why couldn’t he just leave things alone?

“We do,” Thrawn said.

For a moment, Eli thought that he had imagined it. But no, that really was Thrawn’s voice soft in the quiet, Thrawn’s face turned towards him. He held his breath, tried to be totally silent.

“But...do you know of the _ceth’mak_ in the Empire?” Thrawn continued. “There are observable differences in the skin cells where a soulmark will one day appear, at least among the Chiss.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Eli said.

“Ah,” said Thrawn. He paused for a while. Eli shot a quick look towards him, but he seemed to be deep in thought.

“Well,” Thrawn finally continued, “in those who join the Defense Fleet, we perform a...I am unsure of the Basic term. Osokhambe.”

“Skin graft,” Eli translated, heart pounding.

“Of course. Those who join the Fleet must have no other loyalties. The _ceth’mak_ is removed, skin from elsewhere on the body is transplanted, and the soulmark never develops.”

Eli exhaled shakily. 

“So you…” he prompted, sure that Thrawn would notice that he was actually giving away information and stop talking if Eli asked a direct question.

But that wasn’t the question Eli wanted to ask, he realized even as the words left his mouth. The real question was--something deeper, more essential, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

He turned his head as Thrawn looked up, and their eyes caught and held. Eli felt aware of every inch of his exposed skin, felt the play of heat in his palms and across his cheeks, and knew that Thrawn could see every detail.

“I have no soulmark. No,” Thrawn said. He spoke with odd emphasis, as though the sentence was incomplete, as though he needed Eli to provide the second half himself.

But what the rest of the sentence could be, Eli had no idea.

* * *

Eli Vanto had been a Lieutenant Commander for six hours now and it was amazing, it was his favorite thing in the galaxy, it was hands-down the best thing that had ever happened to him. His hands kept straying to the shiny new rank plaque; he’d been teased about it in the officer’s lounge at his promotion party, but everyone had understood his slightly-dazed happiness. From Ensign to Lieutenant Commander, four entire rank promotions in one jump: it was the kind of thing you dreamed about but never expected.

Now he was back in his quarters, a little tipsy, paging through the messages of congratulations that had been steadily accumulating on his comm. It seemed like the news had gotten out incredibly fast: there were messages not only from his parents and cousins, but from his friends from Myomar Academy and former crewmembers on the _Blood Crow_. Even Jaxa, who was back on Lothal with a cushy desk job, had sent him a genuinely kind message.

Which was why, when the call came through on his comm, he almost ignored it: he’d been getting so many calls that it wasn’t possible to answer them all right away, and he’d been categorizing them into calls he could return later, when he was a little more sober, and calls that didn’t require a response.

But the ID on the call was Admiral M. Obervik, and you didn’t keep admirals waiting even if you had no idea why they were calling you. Eli grabbed his uniform jacket from where he’d draped it on the back of his chair and hastily pulled it on, made a brief attempt to flatten his hair before giving up, and accepted the call.

Admiral Obervik, it turned out, was the admiral who had presided over his and Thrawn’s promotion ceremony earlier that day--he’d been so excited that her name had barely registered. She was middle-aged, with light skin and hair, and had eyes that were piercingly blue even on a holo.

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” she greeted, and Eli had to forcibly stop himself from reaching up to touch the rank plaque again. He couldn’t stop the smile at hearing his new rank, though, and Obervik smiled too. “I wanted to again offer my personal congratulations on a very well-deserved promotion.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Eli said. Was this all she wanted? It was a little odd for her to call: the promotion was important to him, but not that important for the Imperial Navy as a whole.

“Very well-deserved,” Obervik repeated. “In fact,” she continued, “your achievements are especially impressive, considering your disadvantage.”

What?

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Eli said. Something started to burn in his chest, part dread, part anger. “I’m not aware of any disadvantage.”

“Oh, your soulmark, of course,” Obervik said breezily.

What the _kriff_ , were his confidential medical records just getting passed around at Imperial High Command cocktail parties?

“An alien mark would be unfortunate even on a Core-worlder,” Obervik said, apparently unaware of the violation she’d just casually admitted. Or maybe she just didn’t care. “But you’ve managed to overcome both a...difficult...soulmark and a provincial upbringing, and by all accounts you actually have the skills to justify the promotion you’ve just received. Really, you’re a wonderful example of the advantages the Empire can offer.”

Eli clenched his hands, careful to keep them out of Obervik’s view. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said again, and mentally tacked on a few choice expletives.

“With that said, I want to ask: are you happy in your current position?” Obervik asked. She leaned forward a little, an expression of almost parental concern on her face. “It is, of course, truly admirable that you haven’t let your disadvantages stop you, but there may come a time when your unusual soulmark combined with your continuing association with Commodore Thrawn may...raise questions among certain parties.”

Obervik wasn’t even good at this, Eli thought, grimly amused. “I’m sure those parties would, upon reviewing my record, conclude that their questions were unjustified,” he said.

Obervik laughed. “Admirably put, Commander,” she said. “And that is naturally what we’d hope for. But, well. Some people can be so closed-minded. Which is why I’d like to offer you a position as my aide. Thrawn has been useful to you and your career--” Eli bit his tongue to stop himself from demanding Thrawn’s correct title “--but I suspect his utility has run its course, now that you’re moving up the ranks.”

“I really-” Eli began, but Obervik cut him off.

“Shall we be frank, Commander Vanto? I can’t imagine what kind of perks Thrawn would be giving you, but I’m sure we can come to some agreement. Of course, whatever your arrangement with him is, I’d want the same.” Obervik sat back, a satisfied expression on her face, apparently pleased that she’d hacked through the conversational dancing.

Eli felt his skin prickle, and something cold seemed to have settled in his gut. The conversation had taken a turn into deeper waters, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to orient himself.

The wise move would be to turn Obervik down gracefully--he could probably manage it, even slightly inebriated and unsure what her offer actually was--and end the call. But…

“You’ll need to be a little franker, Admiral,” he said.

Obervik looked surprised, and a little annoyed that Eli hadn’t understood her. Then something seemed to occur to her and she laughed. “Been celebrating, eh? I don’t blame you. Well, regarding Thrawn, you’re sleeping with him, aren’t you.”

She paused, seeming to expect Eli to confirm her statement as casually as she’d made it. But blood was rushing to his face and the bottom was dropping out of his stomach and he couldn’t have responded even if he’d been facing a court martial. His hands tingled and his arms felt heavy, like he could barely move.

Gods, he knew people hated Thrawn, knew they didn’t understand why Eli had stuck by him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t anticipated this.

“And you’d want…” he finally managed. His voice wasn’t entirely even, but it didn’t look like Obervik had noticed.

“The same arrangement, yes.” She nodded. “In exchange for a position closer to the Core, with more opportunities for promotion and my sponsorship. My aides tend to make very advantageous career moves when they leave my service.” She paused, as though something had just occurred to her. “Really, your soulmark is even an advantage. You’re not likely to leave the Navy for a soulmate that might not even be human.”

“No,” Eli said.

“I’m glad we agree,” Obervik began, but this time it was Eli’s turn to cut her off.

“We do not agree. No,” he said. The heaviness in his limbs had disappeared: he now felt like his entire body was on fire.

He was _furious_.

“I am not interested in your job, I am not interested in an _arrangement_ , and my soulmark has nothing to do with my career. _Commodore_ Thrawn is an honorable, ethical, officer. It is my privilege to serve him, and he would _never-_ ” he broke off, breathing hard.

“Commander Vanto, I really-” Obervik began, but Eli had had enough. He slammed his hand down on the comm hard enough to knock it off the desk, ending the call.

He sat frozen for a moment, listening to the hiss of his breath through his nose, then collapsed forward onto the desk, face down.

Shock was supposed to sober you up, but he didn’t feel sober, he felt sick. Sweat soaked the back and underarms of his uniform jacket, but somehow he was still freezing. He rubbed his hands briskly along his arms, then forced himself to get up, take off the clammy jacket, and put on an old sweater that had holes in the cuffs but was incredibly warm.

That helped. He’d managed all of it without thinking, but now reality was crashing down.

Obervik, for all her posturing, probably wasn’t a serious threat. He definitely could have handled her better, but he suspected she’d been more interested in acquiring a new ornament for her bed--he grimaced in distaste--than in undermining his or Thrawn’s career. He would have to keep a careful eye on her movements for a while, but he didn’t see a need to take further action.

Or alert Thrawn to her misconceptions about their relationship.

 _You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you._ He crossed the room and sat back down at the desk, then jumped out of the chair and began pacing up and down.

He wasn’t. He’d never thought-

He didn’t even want-

He remembered a dark night, the whisper of a breeze. Thrawn seated beside him, almost invisible but totally unignorable, the mass around which Eli orbited. But this Thrawn reached out, pulled Eli into his lap and kissed him, wound his hands into Eli’s hair and bore him down until they lay crushed together on the floor of the meetinghouse, gasping into each others’ mouths.

He shivered and the fantasy broke, leaving him standing in the middle of his room, staring blankly at the wall, half aroused and entirely confused.

He wanted. He wanted Thrawn.

But it was worse than that.

Mixed with the new, unexpected, _desire_ was a growing conviction that he belonged at Thrawn’s side, a nagging feeling at the back of Eli’s mind that Thrawn alone might hold the best part of Eli’s loyalty. As his subordinate, certainly. Maybe even as his friend. As his soulmate... 

Well, it was impossible, wasn’t it. Thrawn had no soulmark. Eli’s soulmark was...something else.

Something that didn’t matter. He had thought, before, that a position at Thrawn’s side was just as good as a soulmate, but he had been wrong.

It was better. It was all he wanted.

He shook his head and collapsed back into the chair.

* * *

The doors to his quarters swished closed, and Eli sighed, walked the two steps to his desk, and sat down heavily. His shift had ended two hours ago, but small crises had kept him on duty--nothing serious, but also nothing that he could delegate.

Then had come the brief unofficial meeting with Thrawn.

Eli pulled the datacard from his pocket and studied it, wondering if he had the energy to begin looking it over tonight. It contained, locked behind at least three levels of military-grade encryption, the basics of the Chiss writing system.

“You will likely not be able to learn it all at once,” Thrawn had said as they sat on either side of Thrawn’s desk. “Or indeed by the time of your departure. But a grounding will be useful.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Eli had said wryly.

Thrawn had looked at him, eyes bright. 

“I had thought _grounding_ was the correct term. Am I mistaken?”

For a split second Eli had felt dizzy, like ten years had telescoped together into a single instant and the Thrawn of long ago was sitting across from him, perfectly composed despite his ragged clothes and hair. Then Thrawn tilted his head, and Eli was back in his own time with the bars of a Lieutenant Commander pinned to his uniform.

A uniform he was about to betray. Just like the medic had thought he would, if not for the same reason.

“ _Grounding_ is fine,” he’d said in reply to Thrawn’s gently curious look. “I meant _my departure_ , it’s not exactly...it’s not important.” 

_Treason_ was a heavy word to go throwing around, and once he spoke it everything would become too real.

Thrawn had nodded, accepting the excuse. And now Eli sat alone in his quarters, the datacard staring him down from where it lay on the desk.

He picked up his datapad and set up the--highly illegal--walls that would keep his work private, then slotted the card into the pad and got to work.

Fifteen minutes later, hands shaking, he snatched the datapad from the desk and stormed into the corridor. He smacked his palm against the touchplate outside Thrawn’s quarters and charged inside as soon as the doors had opened wide enough. 

Thrawn was sitting at his desk where Eli had left him, hands folded neatly. He looked up at Eli bearing down on him, but his expression didn’t change.

“Ah,” he said.

Eli slammed the datapad down in front of Thrawn. 

“You knew,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “You’ve known for years.”

Thrawn leaned forward to examine the datapad--as though he didn’t know exactly what was on it, Eli thought furiously. He adjusted a setting with one elegant blue finger, and an image bloomed in the air above the desk, between his face and Eli’s.

Black loops and spirals, as familiar to Eli as his own hands. His soulmark.

 _Mitth’raw’nuruodo._ Written in Cheunh characters.

“You lied to me,” Eli said. A wave of exhaustion swept over him and he leaned on the desk, palms flat, inches from the datapad. “That night, in the meeting house. You knew exactly what you were looking at, and you lied.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said. He picked up a datapad of his own, keyed in a few practiced strokes, and the still-holo of Eli’s soulmark, taken by the medic nearly a decade ago, shimmered into the air.

Of course Thrawn had the holo, Eli thought numbly. There probably wasn’t anyone in the Navy who _didn’t_ , by now.

“Why?” he asked. A totally inadequate word for all the questions swirling around in his head, but he couldn’t seem to articulate any of them.

“I was...surprised,” Thrawn said. His voice was level, but something flickered around his eyes. Eli swiped at the datapads, collapsing the projections so that Thrawn couldn’t hide behind them. Thrawn’s mouth twitched at that, a faint smile of approval.

“That’s it?” Eli asked. He remembered how Thrawn’s eyes had looked in the dark of the meeting house, how Thrawn had fixed Eli with those eyes as though trying to tell him something without words.

_I have no soulmark. No._

Thrawn stared at him for a long moment, then collapsed back in his chair and passed a hand over his face. It was an uncharacteristically uncertain gesture, and Eli’s arm lifted, reaching out, before he forced it down again.

“Eli,” he said, and it was like a compass pointing north, like iron filings lining up in a magnetic field. Every cell in Eli’s body strained towards that voice. “What could I have said, then or any time, that would have been appropriate? That would not have been an unconscionable violation, or would not have placed an unacceptable burden on you? I know how non-humans are regarded in the Empire. For your own safety, there could be no question of divided loyalties.”

Eli drew a breath and felt it hiss through his dry mouth. 

“You could have- you could have said, or- gods, you couldn’t have. Of course you couldn’t. _Gods_ ,” he stammered. He moved to cover his face, mirroring Thrawn’s movement, and found that his hands had twisted together into a knot. His heart was pounding.

“Furthermore--” Thrawn began. His eyes flicked down and to the side, and he leaned forward. “I also have many calls upon my allegiance. Some preclude others, and some--” He broke off.

“You have no soulmark,” Eli said.

“No.”

Eli thought of a long-ago conversation, deep in the night, the wind stirring quietly outside.

“But…” he prompted.

“But,” Thrawn said. His voice was very soft. “If I had. I know what it would have said.”

He raised his eyes to Eli’s, and in them was a look Eli had never seen before.

Defeat.

Eli stepped around the desk, his eyes locked with Thrawn’s. He placed his hand on the back of Thrawn’s chair and leaned down. Thrawn gazed up at him passively--no, not passive. Thrawn was never passive. He was waiting.

Eli kissed him. Thrawn’s mouth was cool and still; he tilted his head to give Eli better access, but otherwise didn’t respond. Eli lifted his other hand to Thrawn’s shoulder, felt the tenseness of the muscle there, like Thrawn was holding himself back.

“Please,” Eli whispered, drawing back just enough. He kept his eyes closed. Gods, a rejection now would kill him, would--

Then Thrawn exhaled softly. 

“Eli,” he breathed, and brought their mouths together again. He stood up, nearly sending Eli stumbling backwards, but Thrawn caught him about the waist and held him close, arms strong and unyielding.

Kissing Thrawn was-- was-- gods, Eli had thought about what kissing Thrawn might be like, but now that it was happening he was totally uninterested in comparing the real thing with his fantasies. Not when Thrawn was biting at his lower lip, not when their bodies were crushed together in a long line of heat, not when Thrawn’s hand was curling around his ribs right over where Eli’s soulmark lay under his uniform. He rose up on his toes, trying to press closer, twining one hand through Thrawn’s sleek hair and gripping Thrawn’s biceps with the other.

Thrawn stilled, then kissed Eli harder. The _ceth’mak_ , Eli thought, stroking Thrawn’s arm, imagining the skin under the stiff white uniform. Would there be scar tissue where the graft had been performed, skin shiny and discolored? Or would there be no boundary, no join to mark the place where Eli’s name should have been?

He’d never know.

He leaned into Thrawn, chasing the boundless heat that had been building between them, but something had changed: they both felt it. Thrawn gently withdrew and leaned his head against Eli’s, temple to temple, loosening his embrace until his hands rested lightly on Eli’s hips, barely there at all.

Five breaths, Eli thought, and tried to take them as slowly as possible to stave off the agonizing moment of separation. Then Thrawn kissed his cheek, his forehead, and stepped away. He sank back into his chair, and Eli followed, kneeling beside the chair on legs that trembled.

Moved by some sudden impulse, he took Thrawn’s hand and kissed it, then leaned his forehead on Thrawn’s knee. He stayed there, spine bent and head bowed, for a long moment, until he felt Thrawn’s hand come to rest gently on the back of his head.

“Ask me to stay,” Eli said finally. His throat was dry; he cleared it. “Please, just...you know I would.”

“And you know I cannot,” Thrawn said. His voice was calm, but Eli heard an undercurrent of tension.

“Calls on your allegiance,” Eli repeated. The words were bitter in his mouth. “Thrawn. We could have had _years_.”

He lifted his head as Thrawn leaned down, and they kissed. 

The kiss lanced down Eli’s body, setting his nerves alight: he was aroused, he realized suddenly, wanted desperately to pull Thrawn from the chair and fuck him on the floor, under the desk. At the same time, it was anathema. How could he leave, after that?

It was too much.

Thrawn’s hair was disarrayed where Eli had pushed his hand through it. Eli stared at the smooth strands, trying to hold onto the feeling of them between his fingers, but the memory was slipping away.

“I guess we did,” Eli said, looking away. He sat back, preparing to stand, preparing to put the proper distance between them.

The Thrawn grabbed his shoulder, a jerky motion performed without any of his customary grace, and yanked him close again. Eli fell forward almost into his lap, catching himself on the arms of the chair and gazing upwards into Thrawn’s face. 

“I cannot ask you to stay,” Thrawn repeated. “But…”

Eli’s heart lifted inside him. “I can ask you to find me again,” he said. “Thrawn. When your work is finished here. _Come back to me._ ”

“I will try,” Thrawn began.

Eli grabbed his face and kissed him hard, all ambivalence gone. They were both panting when they separated, the blood beating hard in Eli’s ears. Thrawn’s mouth hung open a little.

“I will,” Thrawn said, surprise stark on his face. “I will.”


End file.
